


Green Light

by areyouarealmonster



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: ColdAtom Week 2017, Jealousy, Leonard and Ray do not know that Nate is trying this however, M/M, Sara and Nate and Mick are working really hard okay, They really want Leonard and Ray to stop pining thanks, they're trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouarealmonster/pseuds/areyouarealmonster
Summary: In comparison to those three teammates, Raymond and Nate just look like idiots.Their movements are choppy, lacking precision and grace. Their enthusiasm, though, is catchy, and, when Raymond catches Leonard’s eye, Leonard feels himself smiling back.Until Nate grabs hold of Raymond and starts dancing on him.Leonard tears his eyes away, unable to squash the feeling of rage and frustration that is bubbling up inside him. He’s got no claim on Raymond; he never has. Raymond is free to do what he likes, to dance with whoever he wants. Even if it makes Leonard want to scream.





	Green Light

**Author's Note:**

> ColdAtom Week Day #2: Jealousy/Protectiveness

Leonard is nursing a glass of whiskey, listening to Mick, Rip, and the professor argue over…who knows? He can barely hear them over the loud music of the club that Sara dragged the entire team to, stating that they needed to “let loose and relax.”

 

Leonard has never been good at either of those things.

 

The beat is pounding in his ears as his eyes roam the club, catching sight of the rest of his team _actually_ letting loose on the dance floor. He’d say the younger members, but Raymond and Nate aren’t all that much younger than he is, and Rip—well, who knows how old Rip actually is, what with the time travel and all, but he’s comfortably seated with the part of the team that decidedly isn’t dancing.

 

Sara and Amaya are moving like they were born to do this, all fluidity and raw sexuality and bright, glowing smiles. They move in tandem, and Leonard can’t help being caught up in their motion.

 

Jax’s rhythm is clean and sharp as he dances with a pretty, androgynous person, their hair matching Jax’s almost exactly, their hands running up and down Jax’s back as the two of them move together.

 

In comparison to those three teammates, Raymond and Nate just look like idiots.

 

Their movements are choppy, lacking precision and grace. Their enthusiasm, though, is catchy, and, when Raymond catches Leonard’s eye, Leonard feels himself smiling back.

 

Until Nate grabs hold of Raymond and starts dancing _on_ him.

 

Leonard tears his eyes away, unable to squash the feeling of rage and frustration that is bubbling up inside him. He’s got no claim on Raymond; he never has. Raymond is free to do what he likes, to dance with whoever he wants. Even if it makes Leonard want to scream.

 

He takes a rather large gulp of his drink, and looks back to his table companions to find Mick staring at him dubiously.

 

“What?” he yells over the music, keeping his eyes decidedly fixed on Mick and away from the dance floor.

 

“You’re an idiot, Snart,” Mick says, shaking his head. “You’ve got a second chance, back from the dead, what the hell are you doing?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leonard replies, and his eyes _do not_ wander back over to the dance floor, absolutely not.

 

Mick shakes his head, and Leonard can read his lips mouthing, “Dumbass,” before the other man turns away and resumes arguing with their teammates.

 

The booth to his left sags and Leonard turns to see Raymond sitting down heavily, damp with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead.

 

“I need a drink,” he tells Leonard, looking over pleadingly.

 

“Okay,” Leonard replies. “What do you want me to do about that?”

 

Raymond actually _pouts_ , and Leonard will not give in, will not give in, will not—

 

“Fine.” He pours a glass of water from the pitcher in the middle of their large, half-moon table and hands it over to Raymond.

 

Raymond throws his head back and downs it and Leonard is definitely not watching him swallow the water down, not even a little bit. He is absolutely not focusing on Raymond’s neck, the man’s larynx bobbing up and down as he chugs the water.

 

Nope.

 

Okay, maybe a little.

 

“Thanks!” Raymond says, and jumps back up. “You gonna join us?” he asks, his eyes big and hopeful.

 

Leonard shakes his head. “I don’t dance, Boy Scout. You go have fun.”

 

Raymond nods and bounces back off, leaving Leonard regretting his every decision. Because, of course, Raymond goes back to _Nathaniel_ , who Leonard just wants to throttle.

 

At least this time, Nate’s not grinding up against Raymond. Yet. 

 

The girls have joined back up with the two of them, and they’re all dancing together in a clump. Jax has disappeared, and Leonard is _very proud_ of him. He’d worry about the kid, but he raised Lisa and compared to her, Jax is an angel.

 

Well, compared to lots of people, Jax is an angel. Plus, he can take care of himself.

 

Anyway, they’ve all got trackers on them for situations just like this one. If Jax disappears for long enough for them to worry, they’ll be able to find him again.

 

Reluctantly, Leonard drags his eyes away from the dance floor (from the team, not just from Raymond’s flailing arms and laughable movements) and tries to join in the conversation that the rest of his team is having. They’re arguing about the ethics of eating fabricated meat, and Leonard rolls his eyes. He’s with Mick on this one—who cares? Food is food, and if it’s nutritionally sound, who cares?

 

But Mick is joining the professor and Rip in arguing over whether vegetarians and vegans would eat fabricated meat. Leonard had a hard enough time putting enough protein on the table to keep Lisa fed and nutritionally balanced when she was young to give a single flying fuck what vegetarians and vegans would eat.

 

Boring, boring, boring. Leonard toys with the idea of going back to the ship, but he knows being there, alone, in the quiet would give his mind too much space to wander.

 

Too much space to think about what Raymond and Nate might be doing on the dance floor.

 

No, better to stay here and _know_ what’s happening, rather than imagine it. Leonard does have a fantastic imagination, after all. For better or for worse.

 

Someone small drapes themselves over him and he peers over to a flash of blond hair and a winning smile.

 

“Sara,” he says shortly.

 

“ _Leon_ ard,” she replies, sounding tipsy but not quite drunk enough to be draping herself over him like this. Especially after the awkward talk they had when Leonard came back from the dead, about their ill-fated and never-to-be-repeated kiss. “You’re an idiot.”

 

He tries to pry her off, and catches Raymond’s eye over her shoulder. Leonard looks away quickly, focusing on Sara. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, and wishes he could hiss it at her, but it’s too loud for anything quieter than a yell.

 

“You’re staring at Ray.”

 

“I am not,” Leonard insists, which only causes Sara to laugh at him and continue laying across him. It’s very uncomfortable.

 

“You are,” Sara retorts, “and it’s harshing my buzz. He’s gonna invite you to dance again and this time you _will_ say yes or I _will_ punch you in the face.”

 

“Why do you care?” Leonard asks. “And no fucking way, I don’t dance.”

 

“Tonight, you do,” Sara says. “I care because you’re being a dumbass, he keeps looking over at you like a kicked puppy, and I just want to drink and have fun and not have you two pining after each other from afar.”

 

She plants a large, wet kiss on his cheek and saunters off, in the direction of the bathrooms. Leonard scrubs at his cheek with the sleeve of his long-sleeved black shirt—his sweater being too hot for a club environment—and, yet again, catches Raymond’s eye.

 

Raymond waves at him, a confused half-smile on his face. Leonard rolls his eyes, and he’s not sure if it’s at the Boy Scout, Sara, or himself.

 

But Sara’s words echo in his head, as do Mick’s from earlier. He might, after his third glass of whiskey, admit that he has a little crush on Raymond. Just a small one, obviously. It’s not his fault that the man is so hot, so earnest, so cute, so—no, this is a _bad_ train of thought. He’s not even considering the idea of dancing. Not toying with it, not thinking of Raymond, sweaty and radiating heat, pressed up against him…

 

He turns back to the conversation, but god, it is _so_ boring. Leonard doesn’t understand how Mick is enjoying himself, but maybe he just likes arguing with Rip and Stein. Yeah, that’s probably it. Leonard doesn’t really like arguments without end goals—he’s had too many people play devil’s advocate at him, and as a queer, mixed-race person, that just grates. Arguing for argument’s sake has been used against him too many times—against his various identities too many times—for him to appreciate it.

 

So he definitely doesn’t down a shot of whiskey, poured from the almost-empty bottle they ordered with money they had Gideon print up, definitely doesn’t glare daggers at Nate, dancing up on Raymond once again.

 

Because he’s not jealous, he’s _not_ , he’s really—god, he’s really fucking jealous, he really wants to stalk over there and pry Nathaniel away from the goddamn Boy Scout and… _and what, Leonard?_ he asks himself. _What would you do then? Kiss him? Drag him back to the ship, make_ love _to him? Like a good Boy Scout would want. Fat fucking chance._

 

Raymond can end up with that fucking obnoxious historian, for all Leonard cares.

 

Leonard pours himself another shot of whiskey and is about to down it when he notices Raymond picking his way back over to the table. He sighs and measures out a second shot. Might as well both get shitfaced, if Leonard doesn’t want Sara to punch him in the face later. Because he has no doubt about her keeping her word. Leonard likes his nose, he’d rather it not get broken.

 

Raymond plops down heavily again, his face flushed and slick with sweat and Leonard does _not_ want to lick it off, does _not_ want to know what pretty boy tastes like—ugh, he’s had too much whiskey tonight to even lie to himself anymore. He _wants_ Raymond. _So much_. He wants his mouth _all over_ that toned body, he wants—god, he just _wants_. Leonard isn’t sure he’s ever _craved_ anyone as much as he does Ray Palmer.

 

He pushes the shot at Raymond and lifts his own in a mock toast. Raymond lifts the offered shot and does actually toast Leonard with it before knocking it back. Instead of taking his own shot immediately, Leonard watches the other man drink, again, then grimaces and knocks his own back.

 

The whiskey burns down his throat, sending fuzzy tendrils up to his brain. He shakes his head sharply to clear it. When he opens his eyes, Raymond is staring at him.

 

“Sara said you changed your mind about dancing?” Raymond says, half-phrased as a question.

 

Leonard sighs. Of course she did. “Yeah, sure, Raymond.”

 

Raymond’s glowing smile is all Leonard needs to know how absolutely, completely, totally fucked he is. Well, not the smile itself, but his reaction to the smile: his heart racing, his palms sweating, his mouth going dry.

 

“You’re gonna be hot in that shirt,” Raymond tells him as they get up. Leonard just shrugs. “Okay, your choice.”

 

“It is,” Leonard responds, but he’s too quiet, and Raymond doesn’t hear him over the music. It’s not like Leonard is wearing layers, anyway. This is the least amount of clothing he’s comfortable in; this way, nobody can see the scars covering his arms (and torso, but that’s not the point here).

 

They almost get separated, but Leonard can easily pick out Raymond towering over the crowd; he certainly doesn’t need the hand reaching back to grab his. He lets Raymond take his hand, though, because he’s _weak_ , he’s so weak, and Raymond doesn’t even realize his effect as he threads their fingers together.

 

The two of them finally get to the rest of their teammates, and Leonard realizes that he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t party. He doesn’t go to clubs to dance: he goes to clubs to thieve, to make deals.

 

“Raymond,” he yells over the music, “you do know that I have no idea how to dance, right?”

 

Raymond just grins at him. “Someone as graceful as you should be able to get the hang of it easily.”

 

As…graceful? Leonard is pretty sure he’s flushed, both with the compliment and the warmth of the dance floor. He can already feel himself overheating and he takes a deep breath, letting the physical discomfort flow away. Then he focuses on what Sara and Amaya are doing, remembers how he saw Jax moving against that pretty person, examines the people around him—

 

And suddenly Raymond is laughing at him.

 

“What?” he asks, annoyed.

 

“You’re over-thinking, Leonard!” Ray shouts back. “Just relax.”

 

“Have you _ever_ seen me relax, Boy Scout?” Leonard asks, but he _tries_.

 

He fails.

 

Raymond chuckles quietly; Leonard doesn’t hear it, he can just see it written on the other man’s face. Then Raymond steps forward, and steps forward, and suddenly is in his space and Leonard forgets how to speak because Raymond grasps onto his hips.

 

Raymond puts his hands on Leonard’s hips, and presses their bodies together, and Leonard forgets how to breathe.

 

“Like this,” Raymond says, his lips against Leonard’s ear, and Leonard forgets to be annoyed, forgets to be cranky, forgets everything but Raymond’s large, warm hands on him, Raymond’s sweaty body pressed against his.

 

Then Raymond moves his hips, guiding Leonard’s hips with his hands, grinding them together in rhythm with the beat.

 

Leonard has run out of things to forget, so he just lets Raymond show him how to dance. It’s funny, Leonard might think if he could actually use any part of his brain right now, that the messiest dancer is teaching him how to dance. But Raymond has no problem with this kind of dancing, no problem with just finding a rhythm and moving to it and, oh god, he must be so good in bed—

 

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this,” he says, his hands clenching into fists, clutching at the back of Raymond’s sweat-soaked t-shirt.

 

Sara overhears, and swoops into his vision, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Come on, Leonard, live a little!”

 

“Fuck,” Leonard mutters, and lets his head fall to rest on Raymond’s shoulder.

 

His hips are still moving against Raymond’s and he can feel himself getting turned on, can feel all his blood rushing out of his brain and into his dick. He lifts his head up from Raymond’s shoulder to say something, and immediately notices that the rest of the team has scattered from the dance floor.

 

“Where’d they go?” he asks.

 

Raymond just shrugs. “To get more drinks, maybe?”

 

“And you don’t want to join them?” Leonard asks, curious.

 

“I’m good right here,” Raymond says, and Leonard can hear the grin in his voice, even if he can’t see it with their cheeks a hair away from touching. Raymond’s hands move—he clearly realizes that Leonard has gotten the hang of this “dancing” thing—one to curl at the base of his skull, the other holding steady at his lower back.

 

It’s only been a few songs, and Leonard is already drenched in sweat from the steady motion and the oppressive heat and the push of bodies all around him, not to mention being pressed up against Raymond. And—is that?

 

He focuses his attention on Raymond’s hips—not that his attention was _not_ already there—and determines that Raymond is half-hard against him. _Fuck_ , that’s hot.

 

“This isn’t dancing,” he muses out loud, “this is just foreplay in front of other people.”

 

Raymond laughs into his ear, and the sound makes Leonard shiver. “You might be right about that.”

 

Well, it seems as though Leonard isn’t the only one who has been pining from afar, if Raymond’s growing erection is any indication of that.

 

Raymond pulls back just far enough to rest his forehead against Leonard’s, their noses brushing against each other at every motion of their hips.

 

“Hi,” Raymond says, his breath hot against Leonard’s lips.

 

Leonard swallows. “Pretty boy, what—”

 

Raymond leans in, kissing Leonard hungrily, like he’s starving, like he’s been craving this for ages. Leonard opens willingly under the pressure against his lips, Raymond’s tongue instantly pushing into his mouth. It’s messy and wet and sloppy and Leonard is _so fucking turned on_ by it.

 

He’s glad the music is so overpowering, because it means that nobody but Raymond can hear his embarrassingly loud moan. Leonard feels Raymond vibrate beneath his fingers; whether it’s with a quiet moan of his own or just a shudder of excitement, Leonard doesn’t know.

 

Oh, and when did his arms come up to wrap around Raymond’s neck? He pulls them back to himself just enough so his hands are cupping Raymond’s face, his thumbs brushing lightly against the other man’s cheekbones.

 

They’ve stopped moving to the music, and they’re now just standing in the middle of the dance floor, making out like it’s the end of the world.

 

The middle—the middle of the dance floor, oh fuck. Leonard pulls back. “We should, uh, maybe go somewhere private,” he suggests, his lips already feeling bruised in the best way.

 

“Your place or mine?” Raymond jokes with a sunny grin. Leonard can’t pry his eyes from those lips—those lips that taste like whiskey, like sweat, like honey.

 

Raymond tastes as sweet as he acts, as he _is_ , and Leonard is already addicted to the sugar high.

 

Addicted, enthralled, obsessed—and no fucking way are they making it all the way back to the Waverider, parked and cloaked at the edge of town. Not with how _fucking horny_ both of them are. Leonard drags Raymond down the back hallway, down past the bathrooms, and out the back door he’d noticed before. The alley is mercifully empty, and silent except for the pounding beat they can still hear through the door behind them.

 

“Leonard, what—”

 

Leonard cuts him off with a kiss, shoving Raymond back against the wall. Raymond hits with a quick exhale of breath, but adjusts to the new position quickly, using the wall to brace against as he hooks one leg up on Leonard’s hip. Leonard’s hand automatically moves to grasp at Raymond’s thigh and hold it in place as they grind up against each other.

 

“Ohh, fuck,” Raymond moans as Leonard presses wet, open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck. “ _Leonard_ , god, I need you, I—fuck— _please_.”

 

Leonard hums, rocking his hips forward. “What do you need, _lover boy_? Tell me, tell me what you want.”

 

Raymond whimpers, his hands finding their way to Leonard’s ass to rock their hips together faster. “I don’t know,” he whines, his head tilted back so Leonard can suck and nip at his neck more efficiently. “I just—ohh, god—I want you to touch me, I want your hands on me, _please_ , Leonard.”

 

Leonard grins against Raymond’s neck. “I can do that.” He drops Raymond’s leg so he can move his hands to Raymond’s belt, so he can unbutton Raymond’s pants and slip his hand inside. Raymond’s moan when Leonard wraps a sweat-slick hand around his cock echoes through the alleyway. Leonard knows he should care about passers-by catching them in the act, but he doesn’t give a fuck because Raymond is writhing under his hands, making _absolutely delicious_ noises, and Leonard thinks he might be able to come from just _this_.

 

“God, _Raymond_ ,” Leonard says, stroking Raymond’s cock in firm, sure, motions, “you are _gorgeous_.”

 

Raymond’s only response is another moan, and to run a hand across Leonard’s close-cropped hair, to curl it once again at the base of Leonard’s skull. He pulls Leonard forward for a quick kiss before he falls back against the wall, swearing as Leonard strokes the tip of Raymond’s cock with his thumb.

 

“Mmm, you like that, Raymond?” Leonard murmurs, repeating the motion.

 

Raymond’s hips buck up and he swears again. “Yes, yes, _yes, Leonard_ , I like that, _please_ , I’m so _close_ , oh, god.”

 

Leonard grins, and bites down on the junction of where Raymond’s neck meets his shoulder as he increases the pace of his hand.

 

“Oh! God! Leonard!” Raymond cries out. “I’m—I’m coming—”

 

Leonard cups his free hand over Raymond’s cock and he feels Raymond come into it, splattering against his palm. He strokes Raymond through the orgasm, until Raymond is entirely spent and gasping, chest heaving. He waits until Raymond looks up and meets his eyes before he lifts his come-splattered hand to his mouth and slowly, painstakingly, licks it clean.

 

The face Raymond makes might be the greatest thing Leonard has ever seen.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says reverently, watching Leonard with almost cartoon-wide eyes.

 

Once his hand is clean, Leonard leans back in for another kiss, moaning as Raymond immediately runs a hand over his almost-forgotten erection.

 

“I want—” Raymond mutters into his mouth.

 

“What?” Leonard asks, rolling his hips against the press of Raymond’s hand.

 

Raymond pulls back, blushing. “I want to uh, I want you in my mouth.”

 

Leonard grins, slow and (he hopes) seductive. “I’m definitely not gonna say no to—oh!” Raymond grabs him and flips them so Leonard’s back is against the wall now. Then he all but falls down on his knees and, oh god, Leonard is gonna die. This is gonna kill him, watching those lips around his cock will just murder him…

 

As soon as his knees hit the ground, Raymond lets Leonard’s cock free from the confines of his skinny jeans. He peers up at Leonard through his eyelashes as he slowly, painstakingly, wraps his mouth around Leonard’s dick. Leonard—oh god—Leonard has to close his eyes, has to screw them shut, his hand in a fist in front of them because just the sight of this is going to make him come, and he’d like to hold at least long enough for Raymond to swallow him down a little bit.

 

He feels Raymond pull off and he looks down.

 

“You’re not gonna watch?” Raymond asks, a pout on those glorious, plush lips.

 

Leonard threads a hand through Raymond’s damp hair. “You’re too fucking gorgeous,” he answers, “I’m not gonna be able to—”

 

“I want you to watch me,” Raymond insists, his eyes wide. Fuck, Leonard will do anything Raymond asks of him.

 

“Okay,” Leonard says, and takes a deep breath as Raymond leans back in, taking the tip of Leonard’s cock in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the head of it. Leonard groans, wanting to throw his head back, but he said he’d watch, and he keeps his promises. Raymond meets his eyes as he pushes forward, taking Leonard in, and Leonard has to stop himself from bucking forward and fucking into Raymond’s mouth.

 

Raymond gets about halfway and pulls back, running his tongue in a zig-zag along the underside of Leonard’s cock, all the way to the tip, before taking him back in.

 

“ _God_ , Raymond, you’re too good at that,” Leonard moans, trying to keep from gripping too hard at Raymond’s hair and hurting the other man. Raymond responds by bobbing his head up and down on Leonard’s dick, moving quickly, and introducing _teeth_ , lightly and briefly dragging them across the overly-sensitive skin, and that’s too much—Leonard can feel the orgasm building, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading through his entire body.

 

“I’m—” Leonard forces out. “ _Fuck!_ I’m coming—”

 

Raymond doesn’t pull off, he just keeps up the pace, and Leonard comes into his mouth, spilling out down his throat. Leonard can feel Raymond swallowing around him and, _fuck_ , that’s hot. Only when Leonard is done does Raymond pull off, licking his lips as he sits back on his heels, looking up adoringly at Leonard.

 

Leonard lets his head fall back against the wall as the two of them adjust and tuck themselves back into their pants.

 

“Well,” Leonard says, staring up at the sky, “that was something.”

 

Raymond stands up and leans in, catching his eyes and pressing a quick kiss against his lips. “Yeah, it was.” He smiles brightly, his hands resting on Leonard’s hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles against Leonard’s lower belly.

 

Yeah, it was. Leonard basks in the glow, basks in Raymond kissing him sweetly. He throws his arms around Raymond’s neck, weaves his fingers through Raymond’s hair, and just tries to relax and enjoy the moment.

 

He actually succeeds. Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the coldatomies chat for help with beta-ing and just generally being awesome, love you all!!
> 
> say hi to me on [tumblr](http://snartbaiting.tumblr.com)


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